


Valentine's Don't

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bad dates, Enjolras is a Disaster, Grantaire is a good boyfriend, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is convinced that he should do something nice for Grantaire on Valentine's day. </p><p>If only it were that easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Don't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiniMangaFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMangaFan/gifts).



> I apologize in advance, fill-ee, both for the lame title and the fic. I've never posted before - Praying it's not cringe-worthy!

It was all Courfeyrac’s fault.

Granted, a suspicious handful of relationship developments within their group of friends could be attributed to either Courf or Jehan’s sly hands, and rarely were any of these things bad. In fact, if it weren’t for Courf’s not so gentle nudging, Enjolras probably wouldn’t have had a valentine this year to begin with.

Then again, without his center’s good natured meddling, he also wouldn’t be sitting on the floor in the middle of nowhere, snow soaking through his trousers and socks, fighting back tears.

But that’s skipping ahead.

It started with some stupid offhand comment about his plans to shut in for the weekend in preparation for an important hearing he had on Monday.

It started with Courfeyrac laughing and nudging his shoulder, asking if he really thought he was going to be pulling himself out of bed at all that weekend after what would surely be a wild Valentine’s Day with R, freezing when Enjolras shook his head and shot down the claim.

It started with a slow look between Combeferre and Courfeyrac on either side of him before the first gave a long sigh and stood up, moving towards the kettle in Enjolras’ kitchen.

In hindsight, that was when he should have realized that nothing good would come out of any of this.

♥     ♥     ♥

Dinner was the first disaster of many.

Enjolras wasn’t nearly as bad a cook as his friends liked to say he was, the Great Ramen Incident of ’09 notwithstanding. He might not be a Master Chef, but he could manage himself with simple dishes and clear instructions.

Still, he should have seen it coming.

He’d started off confidant. He had recipes printed from the internet that seemed easy enough to pull through and more than enough of the ingredients each one called for. He’d even made a point to research common foods from Grantaire’s culture. R was a far better chef than he was, so Enjolras hoped that making something a little more personal would make up for it.

Once he got into it, chopping and cooking and stirring, Enjolras couldn’t help but get excited for the night ahead. Courf had been right, after all

Barely an hour later, Enjolras was eating his words. The smoke alarm was still ringing in his ears, a ruined pan sat in the sink, and he had his bleeding hand wrapped in a rag.

Enjolras took it back. Every good word about Courfeyrac’s judgement.

He took it all back.

♥     ♥     ♥

Courfeyrac didn’t say a word until Combeferre returned to the table with three mugs – tea for him and Courf, hot chocolate for Enjolras.

The latter was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under his friend’s incredulous stare, and was glad to have a drink to drop his gaze to.

“So you mean to say you’re not doing _anything_ for Valentine’s Day.” Courf started, his voice slow and deliberate.

“Nope.”

“On your _first_ Valentine’s day together?”

“No? It’s not that big of a deal.” The careful look Combeferre gave him over the top rim of his glasses was enough to tell Enjolras that definitely was not the right answer, and he found himself scrambling to backpedal like only Ferre could get him to do. “I mean, R never mentioned it! And it’s all heteronormative and capitalistic, and—“

Courf shut him up with a raised hand. Enjolras huffed and curled his hands around his mug.

“You can’t seriously be doing nothing. You realize that R is like, the most amazing boyfriend, right?”

“Are you saying I’m not?” Enjolras asked, a little hurt. He was new to all of this, Courf knew that, but with three months into the relationship he was trying his best.

In lieu of an answer, Courfeyrac dropped his head to the table.

“What Courfeyrac means to say,” Combeferre slipped a hand into Courf’s hair, stroking it back, always the voice of reason. “Is that Grantaire is a very sweet, romantic person when it comes to you. He’s a great boyfriend. You know as well as we do that if you don’t do anything, he’ll end up doing something adorable for you and you’ll have nothing in return. Then you’ll feel bad, he’ll brush it off, and you’ll get defensive and it will turn into an argument on a day you should be spending together.”

Enjolras sank down in his seat.

“Besides,” Combeferre took a sip of his tea, smiling at him over his mug. “You could use a nice break.”

“And a nice lay.” Courf mumbled without lifting his head.

♥     ♥     ♥

Enjolras was Enjolras, and he wasn’t going to let something as minor as a little blood ad a very minor fire stop him. He had backup plans.

Backup plans that, apparently, needed backup plans of their own.

“You’re telling me that you, king – sorry, _democratically elected representative –_ of planning and organization, didn’t think to make reservations on one of the busiest restaurant days of the year?”

Enjolras was not going to blush, especially not when he was already frustrated and stuck in the middle of a crows of lovesick teenagers in the waiting area of the third restaurant they had tried today.

“I’ve never been out on Valentine’s day before.” Enjolras was not going to snap. “I didn’t think it would be so crowded.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, sitting tense next to him. His thumb was running in tight little circles on the back of Enjolras’ hand, gripping it almost a little too tightly. Enjolras knew that Grantaire wasn’t a huge fan of crowds to begin with. He felt awful for dragging him around like this, but even ordering in would be impossible at this point with the stench in his kitchen.

However, when the couple making out next to them (they couldn’t be more than sixteen, Enjolras felt _old_ and _gross_ ) started getting a little too handsy, Enjolras sprung up and tugged Grantaire back out into the cold.

“New plan.”

♥     ♥      ♥

“What do I even _do?”_ Enjolras complained. “I only have three days. Do I get him a present? Make him a card?”

Courf nodded, looking a lot less exasperated than before. “That’s a start! There are flowers, chocolate. Things like that.”

“Grantaire doesn’t like chocolate.” That, at least, he wouldn’t mess up.

“Flowers, then? He could paint them after.”

“He lives with Jehan.” Enjolras deadpanned. Courf had to give him that one. They all knew what Grantaire and Jehan’s place looked like.

“Dinner.” Combeferre suggested. “At the very least. You can go out like you’re on a normal date. You could even stay in if you wanted to, do something nice at home. But treat him to dinner.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. Dinner he could do.

“And not coffee,” Courf added quickly. Combeferre hummed in agreement, and Enjolras had to switch gears to keep up. “Coffee is a first date thing. It’s cheap.”

Enjolras nodded, taking mental notes.

“Movies can be nice,” Courf suggested. “And if you sit in the back row, you can push up the arm rest and –“

♥     ♥     ♥

Movies were not nice.

Movies were the worst thing.

It started out smoothly, which should have been enough of a red flag. Sure, they ended up with concession hot dogs and nachos for dinner before they made their way into the theatre, but Grantaire was still smiling at him and seemed a lot more relaxed than he had in the restaurant, so Enjolras was calling it a victory.

Enjolras called it too soon.

They’d chosen a movie that wasn’t very popular and had come out quite some time ago, going on an unspoken sort of agreement to loosen up the already long night with some affection.

Ten minutes into the movie (and fifteen into a frankly incredible kissing session) Enjolras started getting distracted.

Twenty minutes in, he started pulling back every minute or two to make a comment.

By the time the forty-five minute mark, Enjolras was storming out, ranting probably a little too loudly about the sexualisation of women in media and the stereotypical portrayal of gay men, Grantaire trailing behind him, looking tired.

♥     ♥     ♥

“You could get a drink,” Combeferre cut off what was sure to be a lewd suggestion, based on the width of Courf’s smile. “There are some nicer bars in the area, and Grantaire loves dancing. You could do that.”

♥     ♥     ♥

The bar was such a disaster it isn’t even worth mentioning.

♥     ♥     ♥

“Oh! The skating rink is still open in the city,” Courf was on his second mug of tea when he had the realization. Enjolras had started taking actual notes. “That could be cute.”

♥     ♥     ♥

Skating was not cute.

Nothing about this was cute.

He had thought this was going to be easy, but every few moments be ended up a sprawling mess on the ice. Grantaire tried to help him as much as he could, because _of course_ Grantaire was amazing at this, but there really was only so much he could do.

It wasn’t long before Enjolras gave up, letting Grantaire help him to the sidelines. He crouched to help Enjolras pull off his skates, but he was too frustrated to respond well.

“Just go,” He snapped. Grantaire snatched his hands back as though he’d been burned, looking up at Enjolras, a mix of confusion and irritation on his face “Have fun, do a few laps without me holding you back.”

There was a long pause before Grantaire stood, shaking his head, and skated off.

The second he was gone, Enjolras felt like shit. Angry at nobody but himself, he wrestled with the tight skates until his cut palm was aching and he was out of breath. He managed eventually, looking anywhere but the rink. When he felt someone sit next to him, he still refused to look up. He was sure the beat up boots the warm figure wore belonged to Grantaire.

There was a long silence. By the time Enjolras had mustered up enough drive to ready himself to apologize, something hot was placed in his hands.

It was a mug of hot chocolate.

Face burning with shame, Enjolras gaped up at Grantaire. His face was blank, but he seemed to be watching Enjolras carefully, waiting.

Enjolras floundered, tensing. Why did Grantaire have to be so _good?_ He knew he’d been about to say something, to apologize for his behavior and for this disaster of a night, but he could no longer find the words.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Enjolras stood up from the bench and marched away. He was fuming, furious with himself. He had no idea where he was going, only that Grantaire was following him and that he needed to move, to clear his head.

He made it a few dozen metres into the field bordering the ice rink before he spun around to face Grantaire, and—

Suddenly, he was on the floor.

♥     ♥     ♥

“Call us if you need anything, okay?” Courfeyrac had insisted, tossing his legs up to rest across Enjolras and Combeferre’s laps. They had relocated to the couch for documentary night, Valentine’s Day conversations almost finished.

“Most of all, just have fun.” Combeferre maneuvered Enjolras until he was resting on his friend’s shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t want it to be, but trust me. No matter what you do, it will be fun.”

♥     ♥     ♥

Enjolras was not going to cry. _He was not._

He was pretty close, though.

His coat was covered in hot chocolate, and he blinked down at it through vision that was definitely, totally _not_ blurred with tears.

He was cold. The ice that he had slipped on was hard and unforgiving beneath him, his body melting the snow he sat in and soaking through to his legs.

He wiggled his toes. They were freezing, which was probably because he hadn’t thought to retrieve his shoes before storming off.

Vaguely, he realized that Grantaire had sat down next to him, lighting a cigarette and waiting quietly. The snow didn’t seem to be bothering him all that much.

Enjolras felt himself deflate. He was drained.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was strained, even to his own ears. Grantaire made no sign he heard him, so he cleared his throat and restarted. “I just wanted us to have a nice day and everything went _wrong_ and I’m _awful.”_

Enjolras pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms. He wanted to get up, go home, and curl up in bed. Maybe this would all just be a bad dream.

It was a long moment before Enjolras felt a warm arm wrap around his shoulder, pulling him close. He found himself curling into the embrace, head buried in Grantaire’s neck.

“You know,” Grantaire started slowly, then paused, presumably to take a drag of his cigarette. Enjolras couldn’t even begrudge him the vice, even if he was trying to quit. It had been a long night. “When you said you wanted to see me tonight, I thought you might mean to help you go over your hearing notes.”

“Am I that much of a workaholic?” Enjolras asked miserably.

“No.” Grantaire chuckled, soothing back Enjolras’ hair. He was wearing fingerless gloves, and Enjolras leaned into the touch. “I just didn’t think Valentine’s Day was your thing.”

“It isn’t.” Grantaire laughed again, probably at the grimness of his tone. He hesitated before continuing. “Courf and Ferre convinced me. I just… You do so much for me, and you’re always so sweet, and I wanted to do something for you, for once. I tried making you dinner but that ended in blood and fire -- _don’t even start –_ and then the restaurants, and the movie, and _this,_ and I’m so useless and I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not useless.” Grantaire pressed a kiss to his head before nudging him away to get up. “Come on.”

“Where?” Enjolras asked, trying to catch up.

“First, to get your shoes before your toes fall off,” Grantaire started, helping him up, and oh. Right. “Then, back to my place. We’ll order pizza and put on History channel, and if you still _really_ want to do something nice for me, then. Well.” Grantaire pulled him close and kissed him. Enjolras felt himself relax, feeling a lot better when Grantaire pulled away, though he didn’t go far; just enough for Enjolras to see his smirk. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

So, hand in hand, they returned to the rink.

“I’m still shocked by all this,” Grantaire admitted as Enjolras fought his shoes back on with numb fingers. “I mean, you could have just asked me if I wanted to do anything. I hate Valentine’s day.”

Enjolras dropped his shoe.

“You. _What?!”_

Grantaire shrugged, leaning back on the bench. “It’s a hallmark holiday. Everyone lines up in front of posters of happy, young, straight couples to spend way too much money on chocolate and plush toys, and. . .”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre had been right about one thing. Grantaire was a great boyfriend. He was the best boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.

“. . . and it’s kind of shitty for aromantic people to have to – you okay, Ange?”

Enjolras knew he was gaping, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

It was Valentine’s Day, and he was in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Filler is a huge fan of your fics. Happy Valentine's Day! ♥


End file.
